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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28096194">Cozy</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Umbradominus/pseuds/FloydianSlip73'>FloydianSlip73 (Umbradominus)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types, Zirca 2036 (Pokemon Fan Project)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Fluff, Mentions of other characters - Freeform, Multi, Quite Literally (Points at Buttons), Seinfeld Voice: "What's the deal with Tags!?"</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 20:48:15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,329</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28096194</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Umbradominus/pseuds/FloydianSlip73</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>There can be something so meaningful in shared mundanity.</p><p> </p><p>Or: An uneventful evening in Aurolux City</p><p> </p><p>Alternative Or: Yorra "Companionship Starved Loner" Villeneuve spends an extended period of time with Emille "Instinctually Earnest and Friendly" Alexandrova. It goes about how you'd expect.</p><p> </p><p>(Characters belong to Nyan, @00_Homura on Twitter)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Buttons the Incineroar/Pascal the Gallade, Yorra Villeneuve &amp; Emille Alexandrova, Yorra Villeneuve/Emille Alexandrova</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Cozy</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hey all! First off, thanks to any and all of you who took the time to stop by. This is my first venture into writing after some time, so if feels good to put something out there again!</p><p>Secondly, if you have no idea what a Zirca or a 2036 is, I highly recommend checking out this handy-dandy little compilation of info in regards to the project (https://mobile.twitter.com/i/events/1290312567110471680)</p><p>Side note, if reading this fic/the info attached at all interested you, definitely give folks like Nyan, ScruffyTurtles and Vergo a look on Twitter (@00_Homura, @ScruffyTurtles, @vergolophus respectively) to keep up to date with Zirca-based stuff! And if 2036 doesn't tickle your fancy, check 'em out anyhow, they're cool folks and great artists)</p><p>Anywho, enough of me rambling. On with the show!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Psst, Yorra." Emille whispered</p><p>Yorra looked towards the blonde at his place near the kitchen counter overlooking the living room, figuring the low-boiling contents of the pot she half-mindedly stirred could be left alone for a moment (still had about half an hour left, Sawsbuck meat took a decent minute to marinate properly with the spice from the Cherri Berries. The wait was a pain, but it was Buttons' favorite, so her impatience be damned). Perhaps it was her pessimism talking, but Yorra couldn't help but feel something was up from the get-go. Emille had little concept for what an indoor voice was, so to hear him use such a hushed tone out of the blue meant something must <b> <em>really </em> </b>necessitate it.</p><p>Given he was grinning like a doofus, that something couldn't mean anything good.</p><p><em>'Oh Boy' </em>She thought</p><p>"What's up?" Yorra asked, tone neutral with an eyebrow cocked. She maintained her perch at the stove, the ladle in her hand still swirling through the stew on auto-pilot.</p><p>The only light shed upon whatever grand discovery Emille had made came in the form of his hands wildly gesturing for her to come towards his spot, not another word spoken beyond that.</p><p>Letting out the great, gusting sigh of a martyr, Yorra set her ladle to the side, making her way towards the overlook.</p><p>"This better be quick," Yorra began "If dinner overcooks because you had to show me something stupid, that's on you-"</p><p>Yorra's words quickly broke off with a snort when she got next to Emille, a hand coming over her mouth to hide her proceeding giggles (what she counted as giggles, if they wanted something more noticeable, tough).</p><p>Looks like it was worth a look, after all.</p><p>Emille's apparent point of fascination was positioned on the sectional couch in the living room: that being Pascal, his arms and torso currently pinned to the chest of a very asleep Buttons (lulled to slumber by the scent of stewing food and the quiet din of a game show emanating from the TV), the Incineroar having wrapped his own arms around his Gallade compatriot before unconsciousness overtook him. Pascal's expression (what could be seen of it, as half of his face lay obscured in the crook of Buttons' neck, the large cat's grip on the Gallade not giving much purchase for movement) gave the impression of a Dearling in headlights, a prominent blush noticeable even with his half-hidden visage.</p><p>"How long has Buttons held him captive?" Yorra asked, her tone amused (for her own standards) and lowered to match Emille's volume, hoping not to wake Buttons.</p><p>"No clue, I just had to let you know before it went away." Replied Emille, having gotten out his phone and getting it in place for a photo. Seeing that his moment of embarrassment was about to have some form of lingering evidence, Pascal craned his neck towards Emille to shoot a glare towards his trainer.</p><p>Emille, unimpressed, looked his partner in the eye. "Y'know, you could just wake Buttons up. I'm sure he'd let you go."</p><p>Suddenly looking uncertain, Pascal's gaze swiveled towards his feline captor, as if debating whether Buttons letting him go from his fluffy confines would be worth it.</p><p>Sensing Pascal's internal strife, Emille pocketed his phone with a light chuckle. "Alright, I'll be nice."</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>*Snap*</em>
  </b>
</p><p>Hearing the distinctive sound of a camera shutter, Emille and Pascal looked towards Yorra, who during their exchange brought out her own phone.</p><p>"But I won't." She said, bringing the phone closer to her face to examine her photo. With what could only be described as betrayal writ on his face, Pascal stared towards Yorra as Emille finally broke out of his whispered tone laughing, his guffaw echoing off the apartment walls (somehow not waking Buttons from his deep sleep) while Yorra met the Gallade's gaze head on, only offering him an unrepentant shrug in lieu of an explanation.</p><p>"Sorry, bud, I don't think there's any way I can get her to junk that". Emille said to his partner, finally regaining his composure. In the process, he caught a full glimpse of the photograph Yorra managed to capture. "Not sure if I'd want to, anyway. That's a really good shot, the one I was gonna do would've looked like garbage next to that."</p><p>"Eh, it's alright. The lighting is kind of off". Yorra said, saving the pic to a folder entitled 'Buttons' (having significantly more photos there than any other folder around it) before moving back to the stove, her culinary pursuits still in need of attention.</p><p>"Hey, don't give yourself too much flack," Emille countered "This time of day you're lucky to get anything resembling decent on camera."</p><p>Yorra supposed he had a point. It was evening in Aurolux, and sunsets tended to get pretty garish when they reached their apex (helped in kind by the pollution that somehow managed to creep its way out of the underground from Lower Zirca, making the orange contrasting with the shadows cast by the larger buildings and narrow streets seem even more fluorescent).</p><p>Still, Yorra felt whenever she took any sort of picture there was always some sort of angle or trick she couldn't put her finger on that would've made it better. Maybe it was because of her parents. Even in the less than a decade she'd known them they always could rearrange near any mundane scene they came across to make it more photogenic, sometimes to an absurd degree. </p><p>She remembered one day, when they were out in the city, her mother saw a couple sitting outside a restaurant across the street, and she yelled out to the two complete strangers if they could try to recreate the expression they gave each other the moment before.</p><p>It didn't work out in the end, as her mother phrased her request in the form of "The 'Fuck Me Eyes' you give each other are truly inspiring, they need to be shared!". Yorra couldn't recall exactly what drew more attention afterwards, the rapid fire apology her father tried to give the couple as he subconsciously shifted between Kalosian and Zircan dialects, or her mom's cackling whilst leaning against a nearby bench for support from said apology being issued-</p><p>"Yorra."</p><p>She blinked, startled by Emille's call, finding she had been staring at an unspecific swath of her kitchen wall. The ladle in her hand was still (for a good minute or so it seemed, if the nearly bubbled-over contents in the pot were any indicator), her fingers clenched around the handle in a white-knuckle grip. Breath stumbled from her nostrils in a shaking cadence.</p><p>14 years and she still can't go a goddamn minute without seizing up at the thought of them.</p><p>"... Are you feeling okay?" Emille inquired after a moment.</p><p>She feels like something was gnawing in the pit of her stomach, she wants to say. She feels like she's stumbling in the midst of a fallout and is waiting for something worse to drop. She feels like Emille knows this, yet still had the gall to ask. As if asking that alone would somehow lead to her big, dramatic 'character development' and she'd say everything she kept bottled up in some tear-filled confession. Like it would bring back the dead and mend all the things she's broken. It wouldn't. He has to know that, why would he ask something so stupid-</p><p><em>'Breath' Yorra</em> thought, her lungs in a hitch as she willfully loosened her grip on the ladle. <em> 'You need to breath.'</em></p><p>'In through the nose, out through the mouth', Yorra spoke those words to herself enough in her adult life it almost felt like a parody whenever she had to remind herself of the technique, but she at least tried to heed the advice.</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>Inhale</em>
  </b>
</p><p><em>'He was just worried, you get like this when you're about to throw a fit' </em>A voice in Yorra's head that sounded like it would belong to a large cat attempted to rationalize.</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>Exhale</em>
  </b>
</p><p><em>'Emille is your friend, he would never say something to intentionally make you upset' </em>Another voice sounding like Rylie chirped.</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>Inhale</em>
  </b>
</p><p><em>'You're being too hard on yourself, there's nothing wrong with talking about things!" </em>Jules' voice butted in loudly.</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>Exhale</em>
  </b>
</p><p><em>'And even if you don't want to talk right now, you know Emille would respect that if you made that clear' </em>Will's voice crooned.</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>Inhale</em>
  </b>
</p><p>Yorra slowly turned from the pot to Emille. He looked worried, expectant for her to say something (while also noting further away on the couch, Pascal seemed to have resigned himself to his fate, having settled further into Buttons' neck fur and falling asleep alongside him).</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>Exhale</em>
  </b>
</p><p>"... M'fine." Yorra finally mumbled, having finally gotten a hold on her breath "Just spaced for a sec."</p><p>"You're sure?" Emille pressed.</p><p>For a brief moment, Yorra considered barking some form of snipe or insult at his continued insistence, a flare of irritation threatening to overtake her. </p><p>She then remembered she once threw a lamp at his face in the dead of the night, when every cell in her body demanded some sort of sacrifice from her being that she just couldn't <b><em>give</em></b>, and he still wanted to stay and talk to her.</p><p>If he was willing to stick around after that, he deserved some shred of civility.</p><p>"Yeah." Yorra assured, slowly nodding. "Promise."</p><p>Though not looking entirely convinced, Emille decided not to push any further, nodding back to Yorra slowly. She took that as all the permission she needed to turn back the pot, reaching for the salt and pepper shakers to doctor the boiling concoction further.</p><p>Silence stretched between the two trainers for a moment before Emille broke it once more.</p><p>"So, uh, the guy who came in today. What kind of team did they have?"</p><p>"Oh, um, nothing too special." Yorra responded. "He just had a hodgepodge of Pokemon that are pretty common along the typical league route. Not much to his strategy, either, just kind of reacted to the moves Buttons put out without much thought for his own team's"</p><p>The man in question was a trainer who had challenged Yorra for her badge earlier that day. In a clean sweep, Buttons bested the challenger's team by himself, taking out all six of the young man's Pokemon without any switch-outs or in-battle medicine needed on Yorra's part. Feeling particularly pleased with her feline partner, she texted Emille earlier in the day regarding Buttons' victory. In response, the blonde showed up later at her apartment with a package of Prime Sawsbuck cuts, saying Buttons deserved a treat for his stellar performance.</p><p>Yorra wanted to comment on Emille, who could barely afford rent at his own place, going out and buying high quality meats on a whim, but it was a sweet gesture.</p><p>And Emille was right, Buttons <b> <em>did </em> </b>deserve a treat.</p><p>"Huh, no kidding?" Emille asked "Wonder how he got seven badges in the first place."</p><p>"Diddier is slacking again." Yorra accused severely. Probably wrote the challenger off without even seeing his team, thought 'You're not worthy of a real battle with me' and didn't do his damn job just so he could make Yorra do it for him.</p><p><em>'Toothy dick' </em>She mentally spat.</p><p>"Heh, that sounds on brand for him." Emille agreed. "I want to actually earn my badge, so he damn well better give it his all when I challenge. If he doesn't I'll blare Les Mis outside his gym until he gets annoyed enough to go full throttle. I'd give him about five minutes until he couldn't take any more of that garbage."</p><p>"I thought you liked Les Mis." Yorra smirked despite herself.</p><p>(While also trying to distract herself from the tension in her gut, remembering that Diddier was his next Gym and that meant he was that much closer to getting to hers.</p><p>She had to train more.</p><p>She couldn't let him get the 8th.</p><p>She <b> <em>couldn't</em> </b>.)</p><p>"Oh I do, but I was going to play the movie version. Russ Murkrowe's singing voice is worse than a bike wreck. And I should know, I've been in several." Emille clarified with a smile, looking quite proud with his history of automotive accidents.</p><p>"You're a weirdo." Yorra snarked, voice lacking any malice.</p><p>"You're darn right I am." Emille confirmed, his grin growing.</p><p>Yorra was glad her business with dinner had her facing away from Emille. If he saw the slight smile she allowed herself he'd lord it over Yorra for the next week.</p><p>The next few minutes lapsed into a comfortable silence, Yorra adding the finishing touches to dinner as Emille busied himself by silently cooing at the conjoined Buttons and Pascal. While not as vocal as Emille's simultaneous support/faux-ribbing, Yorra found herself overwhelmingly in favor of the two Pokemon's burgeoning crush. With how much Buttons was able to tolerate her… if she was being honest with herself, less than reputable track record involving personal relationships, the big cat more than deserved somebody they could snuggle up to.</p><p>Besides herself, but that was different.</p><p>Yorra didn't need to think much in terms of 'approval' for Buttons' object of affections, either. Pascal, in the world of 'Mons, was a keeper. Dependable, responsible (Yorra was about 50% sure Emille would be dead or destitute without Pascal's attempts to tone down his recklessness. And that was with some generous rounding down) and they more than capable on the battlefield, if Emille's recent Gym streak was anything to go by.</p><p>She jokingly would have said the only negative to having Pascal around so often was Emille tagging along, but…</p><p>Yorra turned slightly, chancing a look back towards the man in question. He was facing away from the kitchen, leaning forward with his hands on the counter's edge, still watching their friends napping. The sun had settled lower outside, it's burnt orange rays filtering through the blinds and into the apartment glinting against Emille's blonde hair, the shadows cast by the light framing the angle of his jaw, the broadness of his back, the sinewy muscle of his arms.</p><p>… This was far from the first time Yorra admired a man's form. Certainly wasn't the first she did so during a get-together in the evening either. Here, though, with Emille, it lacked the… urgency. He wasn't over expecting anything from her, she didn't drag him here as some means to an end.</p><p>It had felt like some time, to Yorra, to have a guy in her home and have the event be so lacking in agenda.</p><p>As if sensing her gaze on him, Emille glanced back to Yorra. Locking eyes with her for a moment, he tilted his head before asking:</p><p>"What's up?"</p><p>It was a simple question. People asked it all the time. Which was why Yorra wanted to scold herself for taking a moment too long to answer, caught off guard by a voice so earnest and bright green eyes distractingly similar to hers, before she was able to answer.</p><p>"Nothing."</p><p>A beat</p><p>"... I'm glad you came over."</p><p>Emille's mouth split into a warm smile, his eyes <em> somehow </em>getting brighter.</p><p>"I'm glad you'll have me."</p><p>… Who did he think he was, talking that sincerely?</p><p>Yorra was thankful it was at that moment she felt a buzz in her pocket, extracting her phone from it's confines to see the timer she set for the pot was done.</p><p>She'd rather not draw attention to whatever the hell just happened, thank you very much.</p><p>Hefting the pot off its burner, she turned to a nearby cabinet, searching for bowls while glancing towards the overlook. Buttons and Pascal were still snoozing.</p><p>"Should we tell 'em soup's on, or…" Emille ventured.</p><p>"They look pretty into it, they might get cranky if we wake them now." </p><p>In retrospect, Yorra should have guessed Buttons would want a nap after today's challenger. Taking on a team of six by yourself during a relatively high stakes battle would tucker anybody out. Be that as it may, Yorra still found four appropriate dishes, setting two to the side and giving one to Emille, holding onto the last. </p><p>"Besides, gives us an excuse to get some before Buttons eats it all." She continued.</p><p>Emille shrugged, a mischievous twist coming to his grin, glancing back towards the sleeping Pokemon. "Can't argue with that. You snooze, you lose as they say."</p><p>"That better have been an accident." Yorra said, unamusement dripping from each syllable.</p><p>"I-it was, sorry." Emille added quickly, his shakey attempt at recovery causing a quiet sigh to leave Yorra as she shook her head.</p><p><em>'Dork.' </em>She thought.</p><p>After portioning the stew between the two of them and swiping some spoons from the silverware drawer, Yorra made her way to the sectional in the living room, sitting a cushion or so away from Buttons and Pascal (the two still undisturbed from slumber, though Buttons did adopt an adorable twitch to his nose as he sniffed involuntarily, the sent of his victory treat stronger with proximity). Emille followed suit, taking the seat next to Yorra, leaving her sitting between the blonde and the unconscious duo.</p><p>The two ate in between riffing on the contestants of the game show still playing on the TV. Yorra normally didn't watch these kinds of shows unless Buttons urged her to join in, but she didn't mind so much at the moment.</p><p>Hot food in her belly, the warm sunlight streaming through the blinds, the soothing purr of Buttons to her one side, Emille's steady presence on the other.</p><p>Something so completely innocuous.</p><p>… If she had to say it, she at least wasn't doing it out loud.</p><p>
  <em>'... This is nice.'</em>
</p>
<hr/><p><br/>
The first thing Yorra noticed, when she was stirred from sleep, was that she was very warm. At least, part of her was warm, her side pressed up against something exuding heat.</p><p>Judging by the dusky purple coming through the blinds, it was a while after dinner was made. Perhaps the stew affected her more than she anticipated, and Buttons latched onto her as his next cuddle-buddy.</p><p>… Except Buttons was still on the other end of the couch.</p><p>And he was still asleep.</p><p>Still clutching Pascal.</p><p>Who was awake, looking at Yorra with a smug quirk to his eyes.</p><p>Perplexed, Yorra cocked an eyebrow right back at him.</p><p>In response, Pascal gave a quick nod in her direction, slightly above her.</p><p>Shifting slightly, she tried to see what Pascal could be referring to-</p><p>When she saw Emille was also asleep.</p><p>Even with her weight against his torso.</p><p>… Because she was leaning against him.</p><p>Sitting upright as to not be plastered against him, Eyes wide as the saucers they were eating from while questions relentlessly sped through her head, <em> 'What-When-Why', </em>Yorra looked back towards Pascal, his lips now upturned in obvious amusement.</p><p>Yorra was prepared to launch a tirade at the Gallade, her hands tightening to fists, but before she could begin she felt one of her hands close around on something solid.</p><p>That something solid being Emille's wrist.</p><p>As her hand somehow found its way there during her impromptu nap.</p><p>The process of violently jerking her hand back was what woke Emille up with a snort, Yorra thankful to any higher being listening that he didn't notice her hand near his.</p><p>"<b> <em>Snrt- </em> </b>hm? Something happen?"</p><p>"Uh." Yorra began smartly. "Yeah, just looks like we both drifted off for a bit, I'm gonna go check on the stew, back in a minute, Buttons dinner's ready."</p><p>With her rapid fire explanation seemingly at a close, Yorra having disappeared to the back nook of the kitchen, Emille turned to Pascal in confusion (Buttons now returned to the waking world and blinking the sleep from his eyes, Pascal still in his arms apparently being expected for him).</p><p>"Did… something go down while I was out?" The blonde asked.</p><p>Pascal merely shrugged, leaving Emille to draw his own conclusions. Though the Gallade did smile to himself.</p><p>Maybe now he had leverage to delete that photo.</p>
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